


Not the Only One

by Adabotcon



Series: Bad Luck Ducks [1]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Bullying, Child Neglect, Donald Duck is everyone's parent, Donald Duck's bad luck, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Launchpad is only in this a little bit, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship, Uncle Scrooge does know how to deal with things, Webby is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adabotcon/pseuds/Adabotcon
Summary: While at the McDuck mansion Drake's problems come to the fore after an accident. Luckily there's someone there who understands.
Relationships: Donald Duck & Drake Mallard, Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck, Drake Mallard & Scrooge McDuck, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Series: Bad Luck Ducks [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689451
Comments: 20
Kudos: 283





	Not the Only One

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-beta'd. This is pre-relationship for Drake and Launchpad. It takes place mostly after season two.

The first time he ended up hanging out at McDuck manor Drake had spent the previous night unable to sleep. He had only met Scrooge briefly when, well, when his movie studio had been set on fire by the previous Darkwing actor to kill his 'replacement'. He'd known that hadn't been the best first impression.

So finding out that Launchpad not only drove the richest duck in the world around but also apparently lived at his manor had been nervewracking. Then the pilot had very casually mentioned that he considered Scrooge McDuck and his nephews and nieces family...

Drake hadn't fallen apart, he'd carefully assessed the situation... then he'd fallen apart.

Because he was already terrible at the whole 'family' business. And well... these people were important to Launchpad, so Drake... Drake wanted them to like him. It was important that they like him.

He'd thrown two different brownie batches into the trash before finding one that he thought was acceptable. He'd gotten a moderately expensive wine which he was fairly certain Scrooge McDuck would toss away as soon as was politely possible. But at least he'd tried.

He'd been greeted at the door by a muscular woman that had raised an eyebrow at the treats and gift. Before she could give any more of a reaction than that Drake had been bowled over by that duckling that had been at the studio, two copies of him and a young girl.

A shout of, "Brownies!" resounded as Drake fell flat on his backside. He felt himself automatically twist to make sure the bottle of wine didn't fall and shatter. The kids tugged the plate of treats from his hand and darted back down the passage.

"Say thank you! What would your Uncle say?" the woman yelled after them with a frown. All the ducklings came to a stop and turned around, embarrassment on their faces.

"Thanks, Launchpad's friend!" they called before disappearing. The woman shook her head and held a hand out to Drake. The superhero took it and almost yelped when he was yanked easily onto his feet in one fell swoop.

"Forgive them, they are a bit excitable right now," she informed Drake. "I am Bentina Beakley." She raised an eyebrow and Drake cleared his throat.

"I'm Drake Mallard, Launchpad's friend. Uh, here Mrs. Beakley," he said, proud that his nerves didn't show too much. He held out the wine. "For, the adults in the house." Mrs. Beakley's face softened and she took the wine bottle from Drake.

"That was not necessary, but thank you. Della will enjoy drinking it." Drake would find out that Della was Mr. McDuck's missing niece, just returned from the _moon_ of all places, at a later date. But at the time he was just glad that this wasn't turning into a fiasco.

He was then directed to the entertainment room that Launchpad had commandeered for their Darkwing Duck marathon. He had been surprised when Mrs. Beakley had joined them. Apparently, she was also a fan. The kids had slowly filed in as well... and eventually, Drake had met Scrooge McDuck and his niece, about three-fourths the way through the marathon.

He was pleasantly surprised that both of them were drinking the wine he'd brought. Della informed him that she'd stolen one of the brownies earlier too and had quite enjoyed it.

Overall it had gone well until the ghost attack.

Even that had been ok, but it made him realize that the McDuck-Duck family was not at all what he was expecting. The second visit had gone varying degrees of well, to not great, but nothing that dipped into the terrible. He'd discovered Launchpad lived in the garage and not the mansion itself, though he was welcome there whenever he wanted.

It was also the first time he'd been introduced to Death darts (aka Blast Darts as he'd known it as a kid). Mostly because he'd nearly been hit.

The third time he visited was after the moon invasion. And that's the point where the worst finally happened.

Drake stood nervously at the mansion's door for only a few seconds. He thought he might be getting used to this... at least a little. His eyes went up the mansion's facade and shook his head. It wasn't that easy to get used to being allowed inside the richest duck in the world's house. At least not for someone Drake's age.

He took a breath and rang the doorbell.

The door was yanked open and a gun shoved in his face. He was quick to react snatching the barrel and pushing it up out of the way of harm. He began to disarm the person when a shout stopped him.

"Wait, DW it's just Webby!" Drake stopped his automatic reaction and stared at the hanging duckling in front of him. Webby was dangling from a rope that was attached somewhere to the ceiling. Drake glanced up and saw that one of the foam darts was stuck up there.

He swallowed and looked at Webby who was grinning. "That was a quick reaction Mr. Mallard!" she said cheerily. "You should play with us! I bet I can get you to surrender!"

"Not a chance kid," Drake said his natural stubbornness at being challanged showing. His lips turn into a cocky smile. Launchpad, who was the one that had warned him that it was just Webby came to an abrupt stop by the pair. He was also carrying a dart gun.

The red-head had a large grin on his lips and held out another dart gun to Drake. "I knew you'd be here soon," he told the smaller duck as the gun was taken from his hands. "So, I've been carrying one around for you."

Drake felt a flutter in his chest. "Thanks, LP," he said flashing the other a smile. Out of the corner of his eye, the masked mallard saw Webby suddenly disappear up the rope. He spun out of the way of a dart that came flying out from one of the hallways.

Launchpad yelped as it struck him on the chest instead of Drake's head.

"Every duck for himself!" Dewey cackled as he ran past the two adults as he dodged Webby's stream of darts. Drake raised an eyebrow and held his gun up.

"Let's get dangerous," he told LP with a teasing grin. Drake tried to remember the layout of the mansion as he made his way through. Every once in awhile he dodged darts that came flying out from random hallways or secret passages. (Because of course Scrooge McDuck's mansion had secret passages.)

He ran into the first trap outside of what he was fairly certain was a bathroom. He stepped right into it. A bucket fell directly onto his head, but instead of getting soaked it hit him sideways, with the metal bit. Drake felt his eyes cross and he shook his head to clear it. He barely tilted and didn't even go down. Honestly, that was nothing compared to being hit by the beagle boys.

There was a gasp from the ceiling though. Without a thought, he shot out a dart in the direction and was gratified to hear a yelp from a female voice. "You'll have to do better!" Drake called to Webby as she skittered away.

He gave a fond smile. Kids had so much energy, it was so rewarding to see them try to do better. It reminded him of why he wanted to become Darkwing Duck in the first place.

The next trap was better. Pillows were flung straight at him as Drake hit a tripwire. They managed to knock him off his feet, but he was back up a few moments later. There was a small growl of frustration and Drake kind of hoped Webby was impressed. He was impressed with himself, that had hurt!

It continued like that, the traps getting more and more complicated. the pink shirted duck always hit them, but he'd always get back up. It got to the point where only Webby and Drake were still playing. The triplets and Launchpad had camped out in front of the TV on the couch, their guns piled in the middle of the room (a sign that they'd stopped playing).

"He really keeps going," Huey said in admiration. "What number trap was that? The tenth?"

"It looks exhausting," Louie said and winced as Drake was hit by an arrow with a plunger. "Seriously, it's just a game. Why doesn't he surrender?"

"DW never surrenders," Launchpad stated proudly. Drake almost winced at hearing that. Because he was seriously on the verge of doing just that. Like the green triplet had said, it _was_ just a game. He just... hated losing. And now Launchpad said that, well, there was no way he could lose now!

Drake entered the room cautiously, sidestepping one trap and straight into another one. But this time he heard a gasp before anything hit him. "No, wait that's wrong!" Webby shouted.

The masked mallard jumped forward, knowing there was something wrong with the trap. Indeed, much later he found out that the ball Webby had setup had fallen incorrectly, hitting an armored suit and knocking the axe it carried forward.

But all Drake heard was the rip of his shirt falling apart. His eyes widened and he saw the two pieces of it flutter to the floor. His... his feathers were exposed. He felt his eyes go fuzzy and his body curled up on itself as he dropped to the ground. His breath came out shallowly.

Launchpad would see...! He'd see and he'd leave. Drake couldn't let him.

He distantly heard Launchpad scream his name. "Drake!" Hands touched his upper arms and he heard several loud gasps. Drake jerked away from the hands.

_His father's hands were cold as they moved him out of the way. they didn't hurt him, not physically. But he heard the disappointment in the voice. "Drake, this was important. Honestly."_

Drake placed his hands over his head to block out the sounds around him. "-really deep scars-" "-what do we do?" "Drake... can you hear me?"

_His mother turned away from him as voices spread throughout the hall. She was angry, the young duckling knew. It was his fault that the worker dropped a pail right on his father during the mayor's speech, but he didn't know how to stop it!_

_"Every time you come out this happens," his mother snapped quietly at him. She didn't touch his arm. She hadn't touched him in months as if afraid that whatever was wrong with him would spread to her._

_His father's gloved hand grabbed at his upper arm roughly-_

A hand touched his upper arm and he curled up further into himself. "S-sorry," he whispered. "M-my fault."

_A metal tray slammed into Drake's back. He ended up going to the nurse's office, the only one out of everyone in the food fight that had to. She was kind enough to go with the duckling to the ER when it turned out he'd need stitches. His parent's eyes were uncaring when they picked him up._

_His finger got slammed in the door by his father by accident on the way home. He was sure it was an accident._

"What in dismal downs is going on?!" A Scottish accent cut through Drake's flashback, his breathing stuttered for a moment, but that hand was back on his arm.

"He's breathing fast Mr. McDee, but I don't think he's hurt. It's a flash-" Oh, duck Launchpad! He's seeing him like this _-_

_-An electrician tripped and slammed a wire into Drake's back._

_-the bullies held Drake down as the leader held a fork to his-_

_-"You're endangering your younger brother-_

_-they hate you, you know," taunted his younger brother. "That's why you keep getting hurt." Another cut to his shoulder. Longer this time, he hoped he wouldn't need stitches. Their parents had stopped bothering to take him to the ER years ago. "If I hurt you-_

_-why won't you. Stay. Down?-_

"-get everyone out of here Donald. Launchpad, lad yer making him worse," the Scottish voice was firm but kind. "We'll take care of him."

_-you know what you are-_

_-you're nothing but-_

"Right," a barely distinguishable voice replied in a serious tone. It wasn't one that was very familiar to Drake. Even less so than the Scottish one. His fogged mind reached for something that wasn't similar to his past. 

He flinched when he felt something drop onto his shoulders.

_-such ugly scars," the voice sneered. "I don't want to-_

"-breathe lad," said the Scottish voice. The thing on his back shoulders was warm and still, and not hands. No one was touching him. He took in a ragged breath.

"That's it, now breathe out. Good, in again." It was a blanket Drake realized, someone had draped a very fluffy blanket on him. He was shaking fiercely so he supposed they must have thought he was cold. He- he was- where?

"Yer in the McDuck manor," said the voice, "breathe again." Drake took another breath.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, m' so-"

"Ye don't need to be sorry lad." Drake gritted his beak and opened his eyes, finally recognizing... that Scrooge McDuck sat in front of him. Far enough away that he wasn't crowding the curled up duck, but close enough to be heard and to jump in if needed. He was sitting cross-legged on the carpet of the entertainment room his cane sitting by his side.

Oh, duck he'd made the richest duck in the world sit on the ground.

Scrooge was patiently looking at him. "Ye back with me lad?" Drake gave a sharp nod. Scrooge's eyes flicked down and Drake flinched realizing the scars on his chest were open to the world. He gripped the blanket on his back and tugged it so it was curled all around him.

"Launchpad?" he asked.

"He's fine. Worried for ye," Scrooge placed his hands on his knees and looked knowingly at Drake. The superhero was fairly certain he could see right through him. "Those scars-" he started to say.

"When the studio caught fire-"

"Dinna lie to me," Scrooge interrupted, his voice didn't rise in volume, but it was firm and commanding and it made Drake flinch back. The next sentence was said much softer. "You dinna have to tell me, but I won't accept lies. Those scars are a lot older than that. Too old, for them to have happened when ye were an adult."

Drake felt his throat close up, but- Mr. McDuck was right. He didn't deserve a lie, he deserved to know what he'd let in his home. He'd always known the acceptance he found here was too good to last.

"I-I'm endangering your family," he finally admitted. Scrooge sat up straighter his eyes wide and anger starting to come into them.

"What?" he asked and Drake heard the danger of an adventurer. Of _the_ adventurer. One who fought monsters and argued with gods.

"I- I'm nothing-" Drake said his voice shaking.

_"You're nothing, but-_

"-, but bad luck!" he finally shouted. He heard an intake of breath from the duck in front of him, but he couldn't look up and see the fear or the anger or the ridicule again. "Something terrible always happens. The scars are from that. Since I was young, I'd have people trip and hit me with whatever they were carrying, or things would drop from incorrectly tied ropes or-"

He took a breath and finally looked up at McDuck. The Scottish duck's eyes were wide with surprise. "I shouldn't have become so close to Launchpad," he said with a self-deprecating laugh. "But he was so kind and handso- and your family was so nice to be around. I shouldn't stay, I-"

"Lad," Scrooge interrupted again. His eyes had lost the surprise and there was a small amount of mirth along with compassion now. "Did ye hear that?" Drake blinked at the apparent non-sequitur.

"Yeah I heard," said that indistinguishable voice from behind him. Drake jumped, he hadn't realized that there was anyone else in the room. He usually would, but the panic attack from before was obviously still messing with his head. He cursed himself for being so weak.

He heard footsteps behind him and flinched as the duck came into view. But he looked at the other squarely, let it never be said that Darkwing Duck was a coward. 

As it was he did recognize the sailor that sat next to him. He was fairly certain he'd been at the party celebrating the victory after the moon invasion.

"I'm Della's twin," the duck told Drake in a quacky voice that was difficult to understand. But it seemed like he was talking a bit slower to be understood by someone he knew wasn't used to it. "Donald Duck." His eyes crinkled and he gave the masked mallard a friendly smile. But more than that, there was understanding in his eyes.

An understanding that Drake hadn't seen before. Donald grunted as he sat back completely on his tail. He began to roll up his sleeve and then slowly he parted some of the feathers there. There was an obvious burn scar underneath. 

"I got that when I was five," Donald said. "Della and I were playing when the toy I was holding exploded. When I picked it up some of the wires got crossed." He moved the sleeve up further, there was a more prominent, but still thin scar on his upper arm.

"When I was a caterer one of the busboys tripped and a bunch of the knives he was carrying flew at me." And slowly Donald Duck went through some of his scars, Drake wasn't certain at first why the other was telling him this, but his eyes finally widened in understanding when the sailor pulled up his shirt to show his side.

There was a scar like the one on Drake's back. Donald's was smaller and better healed than his own. But he'd recognize it anywhere. The feathers wouldn't be growing back over this type of wound. It was a scar that came from electricity.

"-and this one," Donald was saying his eyes dull with remembered pain. "I got when I was hit by lightning the fourth time." Drake found himself reaching out and his hand came into contact with someone for the first time since his panic attack.

Donald turned his hand over and squeezed Drake's own. "You have my same luck," he said to the sailor with awe.

Donald gave him a tired smile and nodded. He continued to talk even as he put his shirt back down, covering the strange crisscross of scars there. "It'd have been worse if Scrooge and Della hadn't rushed first aid to me. Most of these would have been worse if I hadn't had them supporting me."

Donald squeezed Drake's hand again, his eyes were full of compassion and understanding. "Your's are worse and I think you have more of them. Didn't you have anyone to teach you or- or help with it?" And Drake found himself shaking his head, his body was shaking again.

"My parents might have when I was really young," he started. His voice was quiet, he was worried about talking about this. He hadn't ever... but now, here was this strange duck sitting holding his hand with so much compassion. 

He glanced over and saw that Scrooge was sitting relaxed with the same look of compassion. He couldn't understand in the way Donald could, Drake knew, but he must have been around the sailor enough to know about it.

Drake took a breath and started again. "They, they hadn't bothered for as long as I could remember though. They'd be more upset that they'd gotten involved. They didn't hurt me," he added quickly not wanting the other two ducks to get the wrong idea. "My mother wouldn't even touch me once I turned seven. My dad would always wear gloves. I think they were worried that my bad luck might rub off on them.

"And then my younger brother was born," he swallowed. "My parents had been trying for years, but kept having miscarriages or- or some other form of disaster would happen." Donald's eyes had begun to blaze with anger as Drake continued to talk, but he had stiffened knowing what was coming.

"They didn't blame you?" he asked incredulously. Drake nodded once.

"And once my younger brother _was_ born they knew I was putting him in danger so they-they-" His voice stopped he couldn't get it out. It'd be real if he said it out loud.

"Did they hurt you then?" asked Scrooge after Drake didn't speak for a minute. He shook his head quickly.

"They let your brother hurt you," Donald stated knowingly as he let out a breath of anger from his beak. Drake gave a hesitant nod.

"It was self-defense-" he started in a small voice.

"Nay," Scrooge said sharply. His own eyes were blazing with anger, but the hand he put on Drake's shoulder was gentle. His voice was firm again, but this time it didn't make the other duck flinch. "Nay. Something like this is not self-defense."

Donald nodded vigorously in agreement with his Uncle. "They should have been teaching you how to deal with it," he said angrily.

"I did learn," Drake disagreed. "On my own. I learned how to dodge, and roll when falling in a way that didn't break my bones. Once I took my stuntman courses I stopped getting so many scars, and once I learned first aid..." A second hand rested on his other shoulder. He looked up at Donald.

"You did a good job," the sailor told him simply. A burst of surprised happiness filled the pit of Drake's stomach. Before Launchpad no had ever said anything like that. To have it happen again...

"Aye, and ye shouldn't worry so much about our family. We can roll with any amount of bad luck," Scrooge added he had turned his eyes to his nephew in a fond way. "Just makes life more fun."

"That's because your crazy old man," Donald replied rolling his eyes.

"Too much good luck just makes people lazy," Scrooge added turning his eyes back to Drake. "And I think ye work very, _very_ hard lad. That's admirable. Likely the only other duck that works as hard is sittin' next to ye." Drake felt Donald jump in surprise at the obvious compliment.

Scrooge grinned. "Well, and meself o'course." Donald snorted and Drake felt a bubble of laughter burst from his beak. It was half hysteria and half jubilance. Donald wrapped an arm around him and he curled up into the embrace tears falling down his face as his laughter became sobs.

"There, there," the sailor said softly patting Drake's shoulder.

"Just let it all out lad," Scrooge agreed. They stayed like that until the sobbing slowed down. Then Drake sat up and moved away from Donald as he brushed the tears away from his eyes.

"I got your uniform all wet," he said in apology and Donald shook his head.

"I raised triplets. This is not the worst thing that's been on my clothes." Scrooge patted Drake's shoulder and finally stood up.

He held out a hand to the masked mallard and said, "I think we should get ye some clothes." Drake accepted the hand and stood up. Donald stood after and walked with the two.

They did eventually find something that fit him. Most of the stuff was too small, he hadn't noticed that the two ducks who were comforting him were so short. They seemed so much larger. There was a stretched out hoodie in the back of a closet that managed to be just above skin tight on Drake. It was dark purple.

They were chatting about various random things as they came to the door. Scrooge stopped Drake from going out with a tap of his cane to the floor. "One last thing. During yer flashback, Launchpad was making ye worse..."

Drake blushed and scratched his cheek. He debated not telling them the reason. He knew they'd accept it at this point. But well, it really wasn't even as bad as everything else he'd let spill. "Launchpad believed in me," he answered softly. "The idea of him seeing... seeing me like that..."

"Crush," Donald teased.

"I don't!" Drake denied. "We're just-"

"DW, Drake!" a shout interrupted the denial and Launchpad came charging down the stairs. The kids followed him. "You're alright!" The big pilot came to a skidding stop his arms up like he'd been about to hug the other and then stopped himself.

"Can't keep me down," Drake said lightly. He looked at Launchpad fondly, his blush still on his cheeks. He lifted his own arms. "C'mere LP." And he was enveloped in a crushing hug for a few moments.

It was warm and comforting like the blanket had been.

Launchpad sat him down and he was suddenly bowled over by a crying pink duckling. "I'm so sorry Mr. Mallard! I didn't mean to!" Drake put a hand on Webby's head his eyes widening in surprise at the apology.

"It's not your fault Webby," he said softly smiling as the duckling looked up at him. "We'll just have to make sure there are no sharp objects the next time we play."

She gave him a smile that seemed to light up the hall. "You still want to play! I'll get you to surrender next time!" Drake ruffled her hair and pulled his hand away.

"I never give up kid!" He moved out of the front door, and everyone, but Scrooge and Donald followed him towards the gate. He glanced up at the doorway that held the two Uncles and they waved at him briefly. He felt a smile on his beak even as he listened to the kids and Launchpad chat cheerily.

There was someone else like him here. That was a comfort he hadn't realized he needed. Maybe, this hadn't actually been the worst.

\---

Donald put his hand down as he watched the duck, Drake Mallard, walk away from the Mansion. There was a silence between himself and the older duck. "Uncle Scrooge," he said quietly making the adventurer jump in surprise. The last time he'd used that title had been when everyone had greeted him at the moon invasion. He hadn't used it with just of the two of them for even longer.

Donald placed a hand on Scrooge's shoulder. "Thank you, for being there for me. I-" He glanced back at Drake. "I wouldn't have done as well as he has if you hadn't taught me early on how to - to minimize the damage."

"I think ye would have nephew," Scrooge commented putting his own hand down on top of Donald's. "Yer stronger than ye think." Donald shook his head and turned away. Scrooge frowned when he realized that the sailor was shaking.

"Donald-?" he began as the door closed. Then there was a roar of anger from the younger duck and suddenly he was flying across the hall. Scrooge winced as Donald tore down the suits of armor and cracked the railing of the staircase in his sudden temper.

He spouted words that Scrooge couldn't understand. It took only about a minute before Donald stopped and began to breathe heavily in the middle of the floor.

"-can't believe they did that. No one who calls themselves family should treat their own-" Yes, he could certainly understand why Donald was furious. His nephew looked up at him, determination in his eyes.

"I would have been worse off," he repeated to Scrooge. He knew he would have been. "I don't know how he's still alive." His Uncle came over and wrapped his arms around him.

"Nay, he's alive because he's like ye. Stubborner than the stubbornies." Donald snorted.

"That's not a word." Scrooge ignored him and pulled away, his hands staying on Donald's shoulders. There was a moment of contemplative silence.

"We can be his family," Donald abruptly said.

"Aye, we'll be his true family," agreed Scrouge and then he snorted. "Besides, I doubt Launchpad'll let the lad go now that he's found him."

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it. I have some more ideas this. But we'll see if they get off the ground.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it.


End file.
